Move with me
by soundsaboutright
Summary: Ever imagined Klaine tango? Well I did, sort of.   Enjoy.


Author's note:

Well, this, kind of a quick off the map thingy.

Might just work as an independent scene, but in fact is inspired by **brontosaurus**' sweet story '**I Wish I had a River**', where Blaine's not the exact Blaine from the show, but a gypsy (also flirty and a tad more forward;)...). In case you won't recognize him here;) Oh, and then she made the mistake of mentioning the word tango somewhere along. Not trying to take over her story or characters, though, I simply am borrowing the setting, for a moment (In Blaine's words: I hope I'm not overstepping). This is just where my mind went, given some stimuli, and now I can't seem to let go of the idea. (Yeah, dear Bron, there you go, giving me ideas, you should be ashamed. ;))

Might work also as a slight AU-Klaine, together on a summer night, early relationship. Or possibly not _together_together yet, afterwards they'll be maybe, though. Scratch maybe, make that definitely. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Move with me<strong>

* * *

><p>"Dance with me."<p>

Kurt freezes in his absent-minded nod to the rhythm. His thoughts must have drifted briefly, absorbed by the flow of guitar notes entangled in the sweet singsong of a violin's caress. Has he been tapping along, swaying? He didn't mean to, he couldn't...

He looks up to see Blaine standing across from where he sits at the fire. The music reaches them softly from the boat, yet loud enough to carry through the mild summer air cooled by dusk.

Blaine's slightly extending an arm in invitation, eyes warm with the very same sentiment, and a tinge of rapt excitement below. Contained but there.

Kurt feels those spots high on his cheekbones prickle in instant answer.

"B-but this is... it's a tango, I... I've never even..."

Blaine's eyes grow even gentler, springing to life in their depths, with something that makes Kurt's stomach hitch, and his voice falter mid-sentence. Blaine only smiles genuinely at Kurt, from just that depth inside and all else about him.

"So? Just try, see what happens..."

Kurt tilts his head in a shake, suddenly very nervous.

"I really don't know..."

He feels his heart beat quicken.

Sure, he knows the basic steps, but this is just not something he ever saw as part of his repertoire, nothing he saw himself doing. He never really dared.

Slowly, Kurt blows his breath out through his nose. Tango. The few times he's come across it, he always loved watching it. From a safe distance. Loved the theatricality, the overdone, intricate footwork. But that would simply be out of place here, right? He couldn't think to put on a show like that with Blaine, here, now, he'd feel lost without an audience. Without a stage, a justification, an alibi...

His lids flutter shut. Of course he's sung songs for his own sake alone, for the emotion put on display, for himself, but this is too much. That would not be only emotion on display. The tangos he's watched, they were ... sexual.

Kurt swallows and frowns at himself, flustered.

Yes, he _did_ make some of his performances sexy, kind of at least. He liked to drop subdued hints, strike poses. But somehow all he's done was safe, was for show, was artificial. Had nothing to do with himself, really.

Now, he just feels utterly unprepared for this.

He looks across the low fireplace at Blaine's face.

Because there's no way to keep this strictly show, not when the simple thought of being close to this man sends his hormones in a frenzy. Kurt casts his eyes down in an breathless impulse, chin tugged towards his chest.

And judging from Blaine's look, keeping it all business isn't what he intends this to be either. Kurt swallows, overcome with a sudden need to study his boots.

Yet, from the edge of his sight, he sees Blaine tilt his head, lean in a little where he stands. Sees him search to meet Kurt's eyes, to find their connection, the simple gesture trying to coax Kurt to look up.

And Kurt does. Blinks, guardedly, but then gives in and allows their eyes to lock. For whatever good that's supposed to do to his composure, he thinks, when his heart beat stumbles at the sight.

"Hey." Blaine comes a step towards him, voice all soothing shushes, caressing along Kurt's skin and inhibitions.

Kurt's still shivering lightly with the sound, when Blaine takes up his tight rhythm of breathing instinctly, subtly halting in his own for a moment, until they're in sync. Then something in Blaine's expression shifts and Kurt can't but mirror him back, when he exhales, slowly. Calming, levelling. Taking in air again, and letting go.

And somehow it works, for Kurt feels a bit of the tension leave his chest.

"Come here." Blaine smiles at him, and Kurt finds himself standing up on wobbly knees, just at his soft tone, not sure where to look, with the excitement building in him.

Blaine comes closer still, yet not close enough for their bodies to make contact. Kurt chances a shy smile back at him, and becomes aware of his own arms dangling uselessly, cluelessly at his sides. He considers feeling awkward for a second, but just then, Blaine reaches out.

Takes Kurt's hand in his own to bring it up next to their bodies, the slide of his fingers into Kurt's grasp so sensual in itself, adjusting, until the light clasp is a perfect fit.

Kurt stares at their joined hands over the sensation. The way Blaine holds their hands, holds his own hand, extension of a strong arm, a sturdy wrist... it's an offer, is being there to cling onto, to guide. Yet the slow finishing touch of fingertips settling feels like a caress to Kurt.

He struggles, wills his chest to lift and fall evenly, and Blaine's eyes catch his attention, lock themselves to his again, filled with a promise of just the same nature like the one given by his touch. Like the one colouring his voice:

"Don't be afraid. Just move with me."

Forearms sliding against each other, Blaine places Kurt's left arm around his shoulder. Muscles work smoothly under the thin shirt there, and Kurt suddenly feels shy about letting the weight of his hand settle.

Standing like this he registers their slight height difference, unsure at once how to hold his head, the direct look into Blaine's eyes feeling so intimate, too obvious right now.

Yet, though a tad shorter, Blaine's entire body seems to be build around Kurt like this, in that soft embrace of lightest touch, his frame all flexible support, and never a cage. Sheltering Kurt, but not imposing on him.

It's like being molded into form, and molding the other right back, Kurt thinks.

Blaine's palm is so warm between his shoulder blades, that the sensation spreads from the small expanse covered, and Kurt believes he feels each of Blaine's finger splayed out, when he's quite sure there's no way that he can, really.

Blaine's arms around him are giving off the same slow heat, the one that only a body can. Radiating presence.

Kurt turns his face, lifts his forehead briefly into the night air when a soft breeze carries another wave of music to them.

And just so, they fall into a few small steps. Almost startled, Kurt wants to laugh, surprised at himself and the movement, because he doesn't really know where he took that cue from. But moving slowly as they do, it works. They do.

A flush creeping up from neck to ears, Kurt tries to concentrate on his feet, on rock turns and steps, again and still slightly self-conscious of how to angle his head. With Blaine so close, their faces almost brush at times.

Then Blaine leans back, suddenly and so casually, surprising Kurt, even if the move is the smooth continuation and consequence of the path their steps have been taking. But with the circle of Blaine's arms wide, stretched out and held high, it only takes that little turn back of his shoulder, and Kurt is inevitably pulled against him.

Kurt forgets to breathe, yet can't but follow the small tug to his arm, sinking into Blaine, a surge of heat jolting through him for the fleeting feeling of falling, of loss of balance. Then his weight resettles on Blaine, who stands secure for the both of them.

Kurt shudders his small shock against Blaine's shoulder, sensing with his entire body the give and the resistance of their chests flush together.

Yet, fast as it has come, the contact is gone again, as Blaine changes their direction, Kurt flustered in the aftershocks of _so close_, feeling like he stumbles through the steps, when he knows he's really doing fine.

For some moments they just sway together, just stretch into slow poses, sometimes an inch of space between them, sometimes barely.

And Kurt is relieved, and strangely thrilled how Blaine is not putting up much of a fancy show, but instead has them move with each other, against each other in subdued slowness, leading Kurt through a set of sensual slides and ghosting touches.

So intimate a dialogue, reduced to its very base. To feeling the other, tentative, yet muscles all strung tight, humming with their contained motion, focus at its peak, heart beats racing with simply being there.

And just like it, the grip on Kurt's hand is loose, letting Kurt hold onto it, rather, until Blaine decides, slowly guides their arms up higher again, a gentle but distinct pull to giving muscles.

And Kurt finds himself pressed against Blaine again, Blaine's whole frame adapting, fitting itself to him, from the arch of his back to the bend of his knees, supporting Kurt and holding him up in an embrace of his entire body.

Kurt feels himself melting, in and outwardly into the gesture. Yet this time, with how his head is angled, Kurt's nose comes to nudge at the side of Blaine's neck, as he sinks even deeper into the movement than before.

And then it's almost lips landing there, opened in a gasp against the heat of nearness of skin, and Blaine's salty scent, so close to his pulse, imprints itself into his memory, while Kurt's heart skips a beat.

Kurt can't but feel shameless, giving, leaning in to Blaine the way he does. But then what choice does he have, really? This is what Blaine's body tells him to do.

He closes his eyes to keep the last shred of his concentration. To find the music through the buzzing rush of blood in his ears. For, yes, this is positively overwhelming.

And yet there's not one fibre in Kurt's body, in his entire being, with the strength or will to withdraw.

Kurt feels like his sensory awareness has even been heightened, like they're swallowed into their own slowed time, and he registers every little movement of Blaine's muscles, all along his torso, the occasional brush of their thighs together, his hand and arm, tug and shift. He's reading Blaine's body, lost to it. Listening.

They both are. Listening with all they are made of to the stretching, sliding, widening of chests with breath and movement. Kurt knows Blaine can feel it, can feel him, for he can outline every one off Blaine's ribs and muscles beneath thin cotton.

The brief pause of music is his only warning, though, when Blaine pushes Kurt from him, from his warmth, holding on to his hand, only to pull him close again with surprising strength and force to the melody shifting.

And Kurt laughs. Can't keep it in, laughs, for the rush of happy hormones, and how he suddenly feels so beautiful, light headed, breath taken, all at once.

Their fronts meet with emphasis this third time, but yet again they don't recoil, but merge into each other, just like earlier, fit and align, even if the feel is even richer with the lingering shockwaves echoing along their skins after the impact.

And by this third time, Kurt knows he is lost to Blaine. Gives in to him, gives himself over completely.

Marveling at the energy emanating from each shift of muscle now, the movements more generous, wider, yet ever precise and accentuated, their passion still conducted by the utter control of Blaine's body, by his considerate, perceptive lead.

Their eyes meet briefly and Kurt almost stops, stands, reeling at the softness he finds in Blaine's gaze. How it does not negate the absolute lead of Blaine's body, like he thought it could, but completes it instead, takes it further and beyond.

And Blaine's look is one of deep admiration, of humility even, as if _he_ was here to serve, to please, support, with the greatest pleasure of his own, bringing out Kurt's grace and beauty, delighting in it, worshipping it, worshipping Kurt, so full of awe.

It makes him look very young all at once. But Kurt only falls harder for the fact that Blaine's heart is pounding against his chest with a vehemence equalling that of his own.

Kurt stares back for a second, trying to grasp its meaning, then can't anymore, because Blaine moves in too close for him to be able to.

Slow steps take turns with more small escalations, more bursts of movement and gasps, only to shift back to slow, to holding their breaths. It demands all of Kurt's attention, every fibre of his being concentrated in the here and now, that spiral of getting yet ever craving more.

And Kurt knows there must be a silly smile on his face, the feeling gripping at something deep inside, clasping there around the heat in his stomach, anchored in Blaine's embrace and their dance, a dense tingling, making his throat tight, while his chest lifts and flutters with more unvoiced laughter.

Ceaseless shivers run down his back with Blaine's hot breath, mingling with the wind, with air of movement, cool on his burning cheeks, and his knees feel weak. But he knows there's no way he can stop.

And Blaine keeps going, leading Kurt through steps he never thought he knew, Blaine's body asking, then demanding, then insisting Kurt can do this, and proving it.

When he pushes Kurt into a twirl, pure joy of movement races through Kurt's body, laughter bubbling out of him, and he almost loses his rhythm.

Blaine mirrors his smile, but keeps control of their moves yet again, bright eyes blazing with deep delight and joy of his own. He leads Kurt back, makes his body once more the frame Kurt returns to, pulling, rolling him back into a halt, into his embrace with that fierceness, that leaves Kurt's lungs all void of air.

Kurt's body wants to shudder to the core, but Blaine presses him so very close, he just vibrates with it.

Their bodies are so warm together, cheeks, side of neck, pulses pressing, chests flush together, and Kurt thinks, this can't be healthy. All of that racing theirs hearts, pumping up the tempo, then slowing and subduing it. All that pent up heat.

Because Blaine's body is burning up beneath Kurt's grip on his shoulder. Their temples touch now, share the pulse driving them, and Blaine's hand is clasping, holding Kurt to him one final time, as the music slows.

Then Blaine's knee comes between both of Kurt's, farther than with their continuous rock turns, and with Kurt's breath stumbling once more, they end in a pose of their legs intertwined, Blaine's shin hooked under Kurt's calf. Then Blaine bends even lower in his knee, widening their stance.

Kurt feels the stretch of material to his pants from the movement, followed and surpassed by the sensation of Blaine gently leaning against all of him for an electric moment, when Kurt can't do anything but hang onto Blaine, in the circle of his arms.

They come to a stop, to the last notes of the song, and Kurt feels like all the excitement of the twirls spiraling higher brought to a halt is pressing at him from the inside, pressing against Blaine, and feels he could burst out of his skin in this moment.

He can feel everything.

Mind blank, his clasp on Blaine's hand tightens.

He thinks he hears Blaine laugh softly low in his throat.

Then a loud cheer rings out from the boat over to them. It is not directed at them, but Kurt still breaks apart too quickly, suddenly a little self-conscious again. Dizzy, mostly, though.

Another cheer loses itself into the night and then some distant chatter follows, interwoven with clapping and laughter, and Kurt feels his chest heaving with heavy breath.

He has let go, but still stands close, still so caught up in the moment. And now _he_ laughs again, breathily, giggles for all the intensity, for all of too much he can't seem to stand, can't fully allow for all its intimacy, now, with the music gone.

He's worked up and fluttering, feeling light headed and so, so light, yet at the same time grounded, earthy, and warm.

Kurt looks up to find Blaine's gaze already on him, steadily, as if it never was gone. And maybe it wasn't, he thinks tardily.

Blaine's eyes are positively glowing with the fire's light and so much more.

"See, you did it."

Kurt lets out another throaty chuckle as his own eyes keep being drawn to Blaine's lips and his smile.

We. _We_ did it, his head keeps shouting, but he can't find his voice to speak.

He shifts slightly on his feet. But then again, he doesn't actually need his voice to communicate, does he? To make Blaine get it, make him understand.

Before he knows what he is doing, Kurt reaches out.

Extends his hand, bridging the short distance between them.

And without hesitation Blaine takes it, rubbing the back of his own neck with his other in a lopsided smile, looking wonderfully young again.

Kurt mirrors that smile, letting it grow deeper until his lashes tremble with it.

Then they break their stare, allow it to dissolve into laughter, finally, just because they want to, need to, light and free and rising up to the stars.

.

* * *

><p>AN:

Also shamelessly inspired by the tango in 'Scent of a Woman' (if you want, type in those two things and youtube will provide), because that's close to the essence of the dance I want to portray. Not the exact same scene and dance, but the emotion, that way of sensing the other with all your body. I know nothing of dancing, but I can FEEL that scene.

Oh, and I'd love to see Darren tango. With songs like jealousy and his performances... I'd think I'd die just watching. Developing a kink here, when I have never even danced tango (or anything but freestyle) myself and don't even know the steps.

I also don't even know if it's even a tango, but I have been listening to Magnolia Wine by Charlene Kaye while writing this. And even more Por una Cabeza (See Scent of a Woman)... I'd love a guitar and violin version of that song.

Oh, also? I could write an entire fic around the phrase 'come here'. Maybe some other time.

**Review, my fellow dancers at heart! I need reviews, please;)**


End file.
